Today it was a warm 61 degrees out. There I was walking to class in my trench coat, my short sleeve shirt and my ballet flats — clearly loving life. Listening to the sensual sounds of Drake in one ear, coupled with the noises of the non-stop honking of smart cars in the other (real talk, I have never been more afraid of being hit by a smart car than here in Rome).

As I get closer to my school, I see more and more cool Italian students (they travel in packs, I need to be one of them) with their backpacks, perfectly coiffed hair and … parkas?

Maybe it’s the fact that I hail from Michigan — OK it most definitely is — but Europeans don’t have any idea of what it means to be “cold.” The first day it hit 50 degrees here, some people on my program went to the beach. Now that may have been a stretch, but Romans seem to think there are only two seasons that exist, and they therefore dress accordingly — hot and cold, summer and winter. Apparently, we are still in the thick of winter. Girls run around the streets of Rome with their fur hoods and their jackets zipped all the way up. Don’t get me wrong, underneath, they are dressed like Kim Kardashian post-Kanye (Her bleached hair is genius, don’t try to say otherwise). But here I am worried that sweater-weather is over and I didn’t bring enough spring clothes, and yet, I don’t know if the concept even exists here.

Regardless of the fact that there is clearly a seasonal identity crisis occurring, the “springtime” clothing people (especially students) wear here is impeccable — knit sweaters with skirts and tights, skinny black jeans paired with their LBBs; guys in their peacoats with their fingerless gloves, it’s all straight out of a street style blog.

All I can do at this point is copy and hope they think I’m one of them.

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